Saturday goes by easily as we spend most of our time wrapped in each other's arms or lounging in the jacuzzi. It's marvelous and magical, but when Sunday arrives, things change. Not in a bad way, just in a confusing way.

I roll over in bed, my hands coming into contact with the cold sheets beside me—the cold, empty, sheets. My eyes fly open, my heart rippling with a new sensation of panic. Where's Seth? Seconds pass and my pulse slows when I realize that he's probably just making breakfast or something.

Lazily, I fling the blankets to the side and roll to the edge of the bed where I drop my feet to the floor. With a muscle-ripping stretch, I lift my arms above my head and yawn. The temptation to flop back into bed is strong, but the need to see Seth is stronger. I stand, searching for my clothes scattered across the floor.

I dress, taking quiet steps out of the room, hoping to surprise Seth by coming up behind him and leaving a trail of kisses across his bare shoulders. The cottage is quiet, though, which has my brow scrunching in concern.

I round the corner to the kitchen and freeze. The deafening pulse of silence fills my ears. The house is eerily quiet. It's as if my body can sense his absence without needing verification; like the entire cabin is holding its breath, awaiting his return.

I turn, backtracking through the living room in hopes that I'd just missed something. Maybe he's in the shower and I just hadn't noticed the sound of water splattering against the tiles of the floor. Or maybe he left a note somewhere and is planning to return in a few minutes with breakfast and a steaming cup of Chai.

This sparks an idea, and I hurry back to the kitchen, checking the small coffee maker. He doesn't do anything without this morning liquid drug, but the pot is still clean. My heart has started picking up speed again now. With desperate steps, I head towards the back door, expecting to find him chilling on the back deck or sitting in the jacuzzi again.

Nothing.

Then I peer out the side window of the house, and that's when everything falls into place.

He's gone.

The truck is nowhere to be seen. Taking in a deep breath, I try to push back the sting of emotion that's prickling the back of my throat. He wouldn't do this. Not now. I wouldn't normally be this upset about waking up alone, but things have been going so well lately that I've almost been expecting something like this to happen. I've just been waiting to be slapped awake from this fantasy.

I've had this achy gut feeling ever since punching Seth in the jaw. I didn't hit him hard, but that still doesn't give me permission to hit someone. Confusion, hurt, and anger are never a free pass for abuse. And considering the level of abuse he's already suffered in his life, how dare I add to that? Shame washes over me even as I ponder the hurt stirring in my chest.

Suddenly I find myself laughing as tears blur my vision, a sense of relief flooding into my bloodstream. These thoughts of doubt have no place here anymore. Sure, it might appear suspicious that he's suddenly vanished without a word, but he doesn't deserve my doubt.

With these thoughts, I slump into the couch, a smile lifting the sides of my lips. He has his reasons for vanishing, I just need to practice a little patience. I can do this. I can wait.

Shuffling my way into the kitchen, I decide to make myself a drink. My mom used to make tea with cream in it, and nostalgia blooms in my chest as I pull a teabag from the cupboard and then turn to grab the milk from the fridge. The moment I pull the door open, a smile blooms to life in my soul. Sticking out from a pyramid of sausage and bacon piled over a small stack of pancakes is a toothpick with a folded scrap of paper taped to the side.

I pull the plate of breakfast from the fridge, eager to heat it up and dig in, but more eager to read what sweet words he's decided to greet me with this morning. I pluck the paper from the stick and unfold it with anxious fingers. My eyes sweep over the words.

Warmth surrounds me

Gold grows me

Flaws become me

Grit mother's me

I reread Seth's words three more times before dropping the note to the countertop in bafflement. He's been full of riddles over the past few months, but this is a new level of mystery even for him. I stare quizzically at the piece of paper, flipping it over thoughtlessly and spotting a small heart drawn into the corner.

He's always been the more romantic one out of the two of us, but this is just too cute. He's put some massive amount of thought into this and I'm dying to see what he has planned. But my mind is practically useless until the beast residing in my stomach gets fed. With this thought, I pop my meal into the microwave and get ready to chow down.

I'm only halfway through with my breakfast when the distinguished rumble of Seth's truck hits my ears. I sit up straighter in my seat, trying to get a good view of him through the window. I watch him back into the small pebble-dotted driveway and park in front of the back shed.

My eyes follow his movements as he gets out of the truck and begins walking around the opposite side of the vehicle. He glances over his shoulder towards the house once, but clearly doesn't spot me watching him. Then he's digging into the backseat. I have no idea what he's doing, but I can see him walking back and forth from his truck to the shed.

The windows of his truck are tainted too heavily for me to see through, but I continue watching anyway. I'm shoveling food into my mouth as I try to figure out what's he's doing, but I'm unsuccessful. After several trips, he eventually disappears into the shed and doesn't exit for another hour or so.

By the time he saunters into the cottage, I've already showered and perfected my face for the day. I see him standing in the doorway of the bedroom as I step out of the bathroom accompanied by a small cloud of steam. My cheeks are warm from my shower and I feel fresh and ready to experience whatever it is that Seth has planned.

"Hey," I say, my lips turned up into a warm half-smile.

"Hey," he mimics, his eyes skimming over my frame. I feel exposed even though I'm fully dressed. He just has a way of making me feel vulnerable with just one look.

I unwrap the towel from around my head and pull my blonde hair up into a messy bun. All the while, his eyes follow my movements. The way he's watching me almost makes me feel nervous. My fingers fumble and I feel ridiculous for messing up a messy bun. I start over, finally succeeding in getting my hair to do what I want.

I pick my towel up off the floor where I dropped it—because I know it's probably driving Seth crazy—and fling it over the back of a chair. He's probably still frustrated that I didn't drape it in a way that would allow it to dry properly but he doesn't say anything. He just smiles as I approach.

Once I'm within reach, he lifts his hand toward my arm, letting his fingers glide over my skin until they weave between my fingers.

"Thanks for breakfast," I mutter, my voice quiet with an odd tinge of timidity.

"You deserve it," he says in return, pulling me closer. Then he's pushing himself off the doorframe and leading me out into the living room. "Get your shoes on," he tells me without turning to face me.

I peer down and realize that he's still got his on. Apparently, whatever he has planned will be taking place outside. My body shoots that common sensation of excitement through my bloodstream as I let Seth pull me through the house, out the door, and settles me down on one of the deck chairs.

"Wait here," he mutters, turning and heading inside.

I do as I'm told, hugging my thick sweater around me as I watch him disappear. A moment later, he returns with a glass of whiskey in hand. It's nearing noon now, so I gladly accept the beverage and then he's gone again.

Seth's been busy with something inside the house and it's not until he exits almost half an hour later that I realize why. His hair is damp, his shirt clinging to the fresh droplets of water on his skin, and he's carrying a stunning bouquet of flowers in one hand. I can see the clear outline of the body that lay beneath his clothing. He's strong, sturdy, unshakable... but he's also kind and generous and compassionate. I somehow snagged a man that was the complete package.

He takes my empty glass and sets it on the table beside me, and then I watch as he kneels to the ground. Twisting in my seat, I face him more directly, my heart whimpering with how adorable this moment is.

"Mercy Vans," he says, one hand still clutching the flowers hidden behind his back. "Will you remain married to me?"

I giggle—I can't help it; it just comes out. I put a hand over my mouth, trying to hide my absolute delight, but from the look on Seth's face, he can see it. He chuckles softly at my reaction, but his eyes don't waver from my face. He's serious. He's waiting for a response as if this will determine our fate.

I reach a hand out to his face, running my fingers over his pulsing jaw as I try to calm the nerves that seem to be ticking through it. Then I smile, my teeth revealing themselves as I lean into him, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone.

"Always," I whisper next to his ear. "Always."

His hand comes up to pull me closer as he sighs into my shoulder. This must have really been on his mind because I can almost feel the wave of tension and relief exiting his body as he clings to me.

"Always," he echoes quietly before pulling away.

Then he brings his other arm out from behind his back, presenting the bouquet of flowers I'd picked out earlier. My hand reaches for them but then freezes as my eyes really take them in. I shoot a questionable look at Seth before plastering on a confused smile, taking them from his grasp.

"They're beautiful," I say, my fingers skimming the plastic petals and shiny leaves.

"I debated what to get you," he starts to explain, "but then I noticed these and I figured they would capture this moment better. We can remember how our marriage was resuscitated, and how it will never die. Just like these flowers. They don't need water or sunlight to live on. I thought it'd be a nice way of keeping this memory alive."

I smile at his consideration. It's brilliant really. Just like these plastic flowers will never die, neither will our love for one another.

"I think that's beautiful," I say, lifting the flowers up so my eyes can trial over the details again.

Seth goes quiet after that, standing to take the seat across from me. His eyes never leave my face as he inspects my reaction to his show of love. It really was sweet.

Super sweet.

"You hate them."

His voice startles me, and I realize I've been gazing unseeingly at the bouquet in my hands. I glance up to see him watching me, his elbow resting on the arm of his seat as he puckers his lips to the side in thought.

"No, I—"

"Yeah, you do."

It's his tone that has me confused. He doesn't sound hurt like I'd expect him to. He's put so much time and thought into this gesture and yet, he almost seems indifferent about my reaction.

"I mean, they're nice and all..." I return my gaze to the flowers. "They're fake, but I get why you chose them."

His eyes pin me to my seat, a hardness glinting through them and I can't help but stare. Have I hurt his feelings now? He must know I appreciate the sentiment. Before I can reassure him of how much his actions mean to me, he stands, reaching a hand out to me.

"Come with me."

I don't question his actions, but instead, scoot my chair back and take his hand. He leads me down three steps of the deck and along the little path toward the shed. I'd been asking myself when he'd be revealing this part of his plan and now is finally the moment I've been waiting for. What could he possibly have waiting for me behind that door?

As we arrive, Seth releases my hand and steps towards the entrance. Throwing a boyish grin over his shoulder, he turns and releases the door, allowing me to step through.